


The Training of Sam Winchester

by CertainlyHeisenberg



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 12:36:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13411401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CertainlyHeisenberg/pseuds/CertainlyHeisenberg
Summary: This is how things could have gone after Chapter 33 in How to Avoid the ApocalypseThis work may be updated less frequently as the other work is currently being edited.Comments welcome!





	1. Chapter 1

Preparation  
When Greg came back, it was 9:30.  
  
Greg had an uncharacteristic grin on his face. Mark, who was normally happy and smiley, sulked around the barn. He shifted on his feet absently, avoiding looking at the men who now stood at attention.  
Greg laced his fingers and cracked his knuckles giving a chuckle.  
  
“Let’s go over today’s schedule. First we are going to do some OE. Obedience and Etiquette. Then it’s lunch and off to the tutors. To be honest most of this is new to me. Most of the time I am given an unruly slave and I hand 'em back a few months later leaner, broken and purring like a kitten when they see their master. Trust me. No one has ever called me back. But you two…  
  
“You two are companion slaves. You have the education in spades, but the obedience and training? We still need to work that out. Most companion slaves are trained in the fine arts. I bet you didn’t know this, but Derek? He could play the violin, write poetry and had beautiful calligraphy…” Greg mimicked Gabriel's inflection.  
  
“So let’s get send you too to finishing school and teach you too how to behave with a real master,” Greg raised his eyebrows with a devilish smile.  
  
“Mark? Go ahead rub and strip ‘em down…” Greg turned his attention to Bobby who he looked square in the eye. “You understand what I’ll do to you if you hurt him don’t you? Archangel or not, I’ll tear you to pieces. Piece of slave trash. You understand me?” He hissed, his voice promising pain.  
  
Bobby bent his head down and nodded.  
  
“You boys are not going like the next couple hours but we’ll get through it,” Greg smiled. To Mark, “I’ll get the gear. We are going to first floor sitting room.”  
  
Mark pulled up his lip in confusion. “You want me to strip ‘em here or there?”  
  
Greg heaved a deep breath. “Here, Mark. Here... I was gonna do this in the training room, but since you’re so concerned about the damn pleasure slaves’ modesty, we’ll start now! Clean them out and plug them up with these…” From the tack cart, Greg pulled out two anal plugs, complete with long rainbow horse hair tails. “Then trot their pretty little asses down to the first floor sitting room. You got that?”  
  
Mark hung his head and nodded. He held out his hand and accepted the plugs.  
  
“You boys’ll learn to keep those in or I’ll teach you to listen, then fit you with the bigger ones.” He warned with a sneer, grabbing a thick long black bag.  
Sam stared wide-eyed at the tails. The fucking tails. Panic began to set in as he shook his head from side to side, tears collecting and threating to spill at any second.  
Mark watched wearily as Greg strut out of the barn. He rolled his eyes with a huff. He bit at his lower lip as he watched Sam shake. He closed his eyes for a second and then chucked the plugs back in the tack cart with some force. He grabbed his red bucket and some towels.  
  
He looked Sam and Bobby over. This morning had been hard on the boys. Now? They both looked shell-shocked. Greg pushed them hard and now, now began the real test. Obedience. Normally, Greg is asked to train one slave at a time. Mark is there to take care of the dirty work. But now, Greg had decided to give Mark his freedom.  
Freedom. Such a beautiful word. Being a Secgen, second generation, made the process easy. Mark, of course, had a value assessment and insurance value. All registered slaves did. If Greg gave that amount to the State, Mark could be registered as a freeman.  
  
But as a freeman, he would need a trade. If he was going to stay with Greg as a partner, he had to train with him. You see where we're going with this? Mark knew it was going to rough. Mark hated watching Greg train. Hell, he still had nightmares about his own training. Now, he was going to have to follow suite. If he wanted out of this life he would. Six months, less than six months. Mark rubbed his forehead hard as he looked at Sam.  
  
“Guys. This is going to bad. But it’s a few hours a day and it gets easier…” Mark made quick work of removing Bobby’s cloths then pulled a familiar red blub out of the tack cart. “You know what to do. Clean yourself out and flush the toilet. I’ll clean you up and then I’ll give you a rub down. You get it?”  
  
Bobby gave the handler a single nod and took the bulb with shaky hands, and walking nervously over to the sink to warm up the water.  
  
Mark put a mat down and pointed to it. Sam got on all fours miserably. Mark patted the slave’s eyes with a soft towel. He pulled the black fabric over Sam’s head and slid the leggings off his body, leaving the man to shiver in his misery. Everything ached. Sam could not get over the rising fear.  
  
While all the horrible things that were going to happen swam around in Sam’s mind, Mark’s small hands worked in the goo. Normally, Mark took his time, today he was rough, efficient and quick. Sam felt every inch of his body get covered and rubbed with the warm substance but the hands did not linger, did work out the knots, did not sate the desperate desire and need the man had and looked forward to… The toilet flushed.  
  
Sam somehow felt colder and emptier than before Mark began. Mark cleaned Bobby up with some moist towels, pointing him in Sam’s direction, then snatched the bulb, hastily cleaning it and shoved Sam forward to the sink with the thing. In no time, Mark had Bobby on the floor, rubbing him down.  
  
“You better get moving, Sam. I am in no mood,” Mark warned without looking up.  
  
Sam frowned, he filled the thing with warm water, then closed the bathroom door a little too hard. Jesus he was sick of this. He stared at the bulb, really wanting the throw the damn thing. At least Gabriel’s bathroom had lube to help get the thing inside you.  
  
Mark finished with Bobby. “Stand there,” he said coldly pointing a spot on the floor. The slave obeyed and waited. Mark opened a stall and drug a stool out from it, then spent some time at the cart. He placed the stool next to Bobby. He sat on it, patting his lap. Bobby curled his lip and narrowed his eyes.  
  
“Get over my lap, you oaf,” he ordered. Bobby obeyed, bending down over his trainer’s lap, with haste. “Look. It’s easier to get the right angle and I have to give you a warm up spanking before your training.” Bobby’s legs shifted from one to the other, in fearful anticipation.  
  
Mark began to lightly slap the man’s bottom. The slave tensed and shifted but it was not painful. His cock began to grow despite itself and his blush spread. Bobby looked around uncomfortably, wondering if this was supposed to hurt or not. Warmth began to spread over his ass. Then Mark drew some lube from his pocket. It was cold and wet as Mark worked two thin fingers gently inside him.   
  
The slave wriggled and tensed.  
  
“Calm down. It’s going to be okay, little boy… I am just going twist this ball into your ass and you are going to learn to perform like a pretty little show dog? We understand each other?” Mark hissed into the slave’s ear. Bobby’s heart stopped and then decided to pound furiously in his chest. Mark slid the bulb into his hole with a pop. It felt like he shoved in a tennis ball but the thing looked more like the size of a Ping-Pong ball, then narrowed out and he felt the tuff of the hair sticking out from his inner cheeks.

Mark gave Bobby a hard slap, causing him to clinch and pull up his hip.  
  
“Get up, slowly and stand by the door. You keep that pretty tail in or Greg was not lying. He’s got tails that are long, heavier and will feel like a bowling ball so watch your step…” he cajoled in a small song.  
  
Mark could barely believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. He channeled Greg pretty effectively as the slave now stood pale and clenched at attention. Good, he wouldn’t need his whip as much. Mark guessed he’d be taking Bobby and Greg would take Sam. Greg had an eye for Sam. The toilet again.  
Mark attended to Sam and then pushed him over the stool. Sam almost lost his footing and looked helplessly up at Mark. “Don’t look at me that way, boy. Just doing my job…” he said as he placed a dollop of lube on his hole. Then twisted the thing in without warning, causing Sam to whimper and gasp.  
  
“You’re getting trained by the boss, today. Be good for him, boy. Trust me, you won’t like him when he’s angry…” Mark said as he patted Sam on the ass sending a jolt to his cock, his eyes opening wide and shocked.  
  
“Go on and join your friend over there. We are doing a slow march to Main House today. Keep your eyes forward,” Mark now tapped his crop against the hem of his jeans as he moved away from the stool. Sam gingerly pulled himself up, clenching around the tail like it someone was going to fight him for it.  
  
“Watch me, okay?” Mark pulled his knee high in the air then let his foot swing to a 90° angle then stepped down and repeated this several times. “So you understand me,” Mark said pointing the crop over to Bobby. “G.I. Joe, this is going to be half a slow march. Back straight, arms at your back, chest out, gut in, and do your best. There are going to be more than a few spectators… Just the house staff…”  
  
Bobby’s eye began to twitch in anger. He pulled up his lip to protest but Sam hushed him. Wide-eyed and shaking his head and mouthing, “NO!” Bobby bit at his cheek and then jerked his head forward to attention. Fuck them, if he was going to do this he would do it right. Fuck you. I know how to march. He thought, With or without something up my ass.


	2. Obedience and Etiquette

_Etiquette. What the hell was that? The way Bobby saw it, it was just a way to find new and interesting reasons to beat children. That is what his mother used it for.  
  
_   
_Etiquette… You know? It’s real hard to learn etiquette if you are eating off the goddamn floor. And it is sure as shit not proper etiquette to prance around naked in public, with a damn tail sticking out your ass. His mother would have an earful to say about that…_

Bobby winced, shaking his head slowly as Mark finished with Sam. Mostly, at the thought of being thoroughly humiliated in front of his friends and lovers, but what was worse was the idea that this was just the beginning.  
  
Hell, he’d been in that damn barn for three days. He had been praying to Gabriel to no avail. The angel was either not answering his prays or had warded himself against his “favorite” slave. Bobby wondered what the hell he’d do his least favorite.  
  
“I know you are upset about the audience, your training begins during Mrs. Blacker’s weekly staff meeting,” Mark said as he brushed their hair and looked them over. “Which, if you recall, goes on in the foyer. So… heads high, and for Pete’s sake, keep your damn tails in!”  
Sam did not think keeping the thing in was going to be a problem. But he shifted nervously as Mark fluffed his tail. That round nub nestled conveniently behind his rim. The thing felt designed for him. He moved his hips up and down, nope that bitch was staying in place. It gave him a kind of full feeling. It was actually kind of nice, if it wasn’t full scale humiliating.  
  
“And march, 2, 3, 4! Stop looking at the ground, 2, 3, 4! Head up Sam, 2, 3, 4!” the small trainer  
chanted as they “marched” out of the barn. “Do not wag your hips, 2, 3, 4!”  
  
They approached the main house and Bobby’s stomach dropped as ground his teeth so hard he had to stop for the pain. “Not smiling but not frowning! 2, 3, 4!” Mark counted on.  
  
The grand doors were opened by Daniel, who looked on in utter horror. The familiar weekly house meeting was going on. It had always been one of the least formal things Mrs. Blacker did. All of her staff sat in rows along the grand white stair case. She would spout off about the effectiveness of using the whole lemon verse lemon juice.  
  
Mrs. Blacker stared hard at Mark, who had just interrupted her staff meeting.  
  
“This is utterly ridiculous!” she shouted at the blond trainer who ignored her and carried on with his marching song.  
  
“I will have be having a word with Master Gabriel about this! You, Goddamn slaver!”  
  
Mark did pause for that remark. It was one of the worst things you could call someone as a slave. Slaver. In the free world the word carried as much weight.

Mark lead the two men into the first floor sitting room. He lined them up, for his Master's inspection.  
  
Greg smiled as looked over the slaves. One of his favorite parts of the day, other than training Mark, of course. Greg walked around the boys, they looked good. Looks like his boy has marked the one he wants to train today. Good. Sam had been lacking in some discipline. Greg had no idea about Castiel’s temperament and had no inclination to find out either. Hard and fast was a good rule for the both of them. But damn were they green. It looked as if neither of them had never slaves treated and behaving appropriately. How he treated Mark did not help this. Well today would change all that.  
  
“Two hours boys, whatever we put you through, it will only last two hours…” Greg said with a smile.  
  
Sam looked around the room, nervously. The large room had a wall of five long windows with thin window shadings drawn close, casting pale light on the all but empty room. The floor was covered in a fine Oriental rug adorned with tiny flowers amid undulating lines and great lilies and all the silliness that goes with buying something that expensive. Along the windows, laid out evenly, were two familiar blue mats, presumably for human ponies, they had become.  
  
Over on the right was a large white marble fireplace and to the left was a small side table that Greg leaned a hand against. What was on the table caught Sam’s eye first. Arranged in a straight line was a small blue ball, a black leather strap, and an unusual leather crop. It looked similar to the crops they had seen in the barn, but this one? It had a business card sized piece of black leather attached to its end.  
  
Sam watched the objects with mounting anxiety, until his handler pulled him back.  
  
“The waiting pose I taught you before was called Padmasana. We are going to learn a new one. Mark?” Greg pointed his index finger up, drawing an imaginary circle on the ceiling tiles by twirling it around.  
  
Mark eyed Greg, who stared back and repeating the command, with more insistence and a hard glare.  
  
Mark straightened up and started to remove his clothing. His pale sinewy muscles almost glowing in the midday sun. Mark peeled off his shirt, pants and blue plaid boxers slowly. Not like a stripper, his moments were natural, sensual and almost graceful. Bobby and Sam shifted glances about the room, having a hard time keeping their eyes on the scene. Both felt as if they happened to intrude on something intimate. Mark’s face swelled with confidence, but had a look of waiting. Attentiveness to his master.  
  
Sam frowned at the man who was only a few years younger than himself. His body was marked with pale out lines of old scars and new marks. Sam never considered that it might be harder to live as Mark than himself.  
  
Now that the small blond was stripped of his clothing, Greg pointed the ground beside him.  
  
“Varjsana, boy…” the master ordered sternly. Mark knelt down, sitting slighting on his feet beneath him. He straightened his back and rested his hands on his thighs. In this position he looked serene, tranquil and vulnerable.  
  
Greg backed away. “Notice he sits on his feet and his back is very straight and his hands resting open. This pose will aid in your digestion and allow you to watch your lessons…” Greg picked up the crop and brushed the curves of his slave’s tightly muscled chest. “Your ability to remain focused and beautiful is a reflection on your love of your master and your level of obedience.” From out of his pocket,   
  
Greg pulled out a thin tube, he brought the tube to his slave’s lips, whose eyes were cast down to the floor. Mark drew his lips to a slight smile and accepted a small candy, eating it with his head down.  
  
“Good boy,” his master said as he pet the man’s hair, gently.  
  
“Boys! Try to mimic this pose on the blue mats there. Mind your tails now! Wouldn’t want a red bottom to go with that rainbow, would we?” Greg smiled watching the boys nervously sit on the mats, their bushy tails poking out behind them.  
  
“Now,” Greg said as he crooked his thumb to his palm and pointed down with four fingers pressed together. Mark responded to the command. He got down on all fours with his eyes to the floor.  
The trainer snapped his fingers. He held down four fingers, but this time he spread his four fingers apart. The slave’s blond head nodded and he inched his knees further apart, lowering his head to hands. His arms and hands cradling his head, as he dipped his back and opened his hips.  
  
Greg stalked over to Mark with the crop in hand. “In this position I can take him,” the Master said tapping his hole with the flap of leather. “Punish him,” the Master said as he tapped the underside of the slave’s ass with some force, leaving a few pale pink marks. “Or pleasure him,” now the Master used the crop to glide back and forth under the slave’s balls.  
  
“Mark, please show me that you are sorry, standing please.”  
  
Mark lowered himself to a crouch. He bent one knee in a bow, allowing the other to be slightly bent behind him, resting on his heels. An elbow resting on his front knee, he pressed his chin to his chest.  
  
“Now, beg my forgiveness…” Gregory said with a dark smile.  
  
Mark lowered himself to his knees, spreading his thighs far apart. His wrists pressed together as he formed a perfect T, his fingertips pointing outward with his arms locked straight. His shoulders hung in shame as he bowed his head in between his arms.  
  
“Took us a while to master this position, didn’t it boy?” the boy’s master said with smile.  
  
“Yes, Master.”  
  
“Please, explain what I did to ensure you remembered your form, slave,” the Master asked cordially.  
  
“This boy was paddled and spanked by his Master until he remember the correct form,” Mark said flatly, his speech failing to portray any spite or even the humiliation of the subject.  
  
“I enjoyed your correction as much as I enjoyed your success, slave. You serve me well,” Gregory said with affection.  
  
Greg snapped again and held down two fingers. Mark knelt. Strolling over to the table, Greg put the crop down and brought the ball up.  
  
“Would you like to play ball, Mark,” the master asked coyly.  
  
“If it pleases you, Master,” the slave replied looking down.  
  
Gregory took an aside to the boys, “If Mark wanted to play, he would have said, ‘Yes, Master.’ Your master wants to know your desires, he is just not bound to them…”  
  
The man walked closer to his slave. Looking straight down he asked, “Do you remember how to play?”  
  
“This boy remembers,” Mark said evenly.  
  
The ginger held the ball up like it was an apple he was about to bite and tossed it toward the fireplace.  
  
As soon as the ball left the Master’s hand, Mark raced for the ball, running on all fours. When the ball rolled to a stop, the slave grabbed the ball and placed in his own mouth. His mouth barely fitted the thing as his jaw stretched to its limit to carry it. He crawled over on all fours, like a terrier, and dropped the blue ball at his Master’s feet.  
  
Greg swirled his index finger again, this time drawing a circle on the rug. Mark rose to his feet as Greg put a hand on his shoulder. “Very well done, boy,” he said honestly, giving the smaller man’s shoulder a rub.  
  
Mark walked hard toward his clothes, circling the shoulder Greg touched. That was not in the script. Mark tried to quiet his anger. All that front he had put up was for naught. Jesus, a lot of good it did him to spank the poor guy. Unless maybe he enjoyed it and then well that’s one good thing that came from it. Stupid slaver.  
  
“In this room, during Obedience and Etiquette, you may speak. You may ask questions. You are going to learn how to speak in the presence of your master, his guests and other freeman.  
  
“Gabriel explained your… encounters… He is a very patience if not an utterly ridiculous master. But he did have sense enough to contact me. Outside your neat little fence, lies a world where slaves know their place. You should not look a freeman in the eye, let alone curse in front of him. But we’ll have time to correct that. When you address someone who is above your station, which would be, just about everyone, you may not use your name. You say, ‘This slave, or this boy begs for dinner, begs to relieve himself, requests your forgiveness…”  
  
“Now, we’ll practice. Sam and I will stay in this room, Mark please escort Bobby to the room down the hall with the open door,” Greg said with a raised chin.

Bobby followed Mark down the hall. Mark shook his head looking at the ground. Fuck this, he thought to himself. He didn’t want to be a goddamn slaver to begin with. He’d wash dishes or clean toilets. Fuck, anything but this.  
  
Mark walked in first shutting the door hard behind Bobby. They found themselves in pale grey room, it was smaller but just as empty. On the right, by the door was a small table with similar instruments as the previous room.  
  
“Alright sit the fuck down… I am not doing this today. Unless you really want me to spank you again, you and I are just going to have a fucking conversation about this bullshit, alright?”  
Bobby looked around the room, not sure of what to make of this new situation.  
  
“You still have to do what the fuck I say, there is still a goddamn crop on this table…”  
  
Bobby sat down in Varjsana.  
  
“Alright…” Mark pulled a white index card out of his jean pocket. “You need to learn, sit, stay, fetch, kneel, come, I’m sorry, and I’m very sorry. Well, do not look like a goddamn dog, so I assume you understand the first bit. Here… Mirror my poses, okay?”  
  
Bobby nodded a little stunned.  
  
They practiced a little. Bobby got the hang of it quickly.  
  
“You know, he wasn’t lying. He beat my ass for days for not mastering that pose. Of course, he only showed it to me once. The rest of the time was spent guessing. Bastard,” Mark said bitterly. “Well, you do need to learn to talk, so let’s do that. Just act like you are having a good time but not too good of a time and swap your name for boy or slave. Not too hard, right? So questions?” Mark asked looking   
  
Bobby square in the eye.  
  
Bobby’s lips twitched.  
  
“I’m not fucking with you. Ask me some fucking questions or we play ball for the next hour…” Mark said getting comfortable one of the mats  
  
“What is going on here, Sir? I mean, Master?” Bobby asked twisting his face.  
  
“See, you are showing too much emotion… No displeasure or malice… Like this, ‘This boy is confused by the directions given to him,’ Like that,” Mark said with a smile.  
“This slave would like to know what the hell is going on, Master,” Bobby said evenly.  
  
“Good, but you curse like that and someone’ll have a reason to beat you. Best not give them one, I mean some of them like doing it anyway so you’re fucked either way but let’s just practice. Look, Greg is a horrible teacher and worse master. I am not playing his game anymore. You and I are training together. You’re racing with me and I am training you in here every day. You want me wailing on your man parts or can we just learn what we need to learn and move on?”  
  
“This boy would like to learn and move on, Master.”  
  
“Very good!” Mark said with a smile. “Alright, let’s be clear, if I am caught talking to you like this, it’s my ass, okay?”  
  
Bobby nodded.  
  
The two worked on hand signals, Bobby learned all of the ones Mark knew.  
  
“To be clear, your buddy over there is probably getting wanked off over there. If you get jealous, I can do it. Not like it’s one of my burning desires, but I don’t mind,” Mark said causally.  
  
“If it pleases, you, Master,” Bobby said plainly.  
  
“Good job! I like you, Bobby,” Mark said with a smile.  
  
Deep in the other room, Sam's training was not going nearly as smoothly...  



	3. Chapter 3

Sam’s eyes widened as he looked around the vacant room. He felt a part of himself leave as Mark and Bobby walked out the door. He shuttered as the tall man looked down on him. The older man’s eyes locked in lust.

“Now boy, let’s test your resolve…” Gregory brushed the flat of the crop on the slave’s long body. The exercise brought chills and waves of unwanted pleasure as the crop tapped and slapped at Sam’s   
nipples.

Sam’s face contorted as he fought to not scream, to not take this bastard out. The thought sent more chills. He did not want to end up like Bobby. Beaten like that. Sam closed his eyes to breathe through the pain.

“I like the effort, boy. But we are going to have to work harder on that. You need to get to a point where you can take it without all these…” Greg shook his head smiling, touching the boy’s face, “all these beautiful little tears.”

“Now, let’s play a game I like to call Questions. I ask you a question, you respond with a question for me, using your slave etiquette. Example. What is your name, slave? Response: This boy will love any name you give him. What would have me do or how may I serve you? You understand?”  
Sam nodded.

Greg pulled back the crop and land a hard swat to the slave’s back.

“This boy understands,” Sam said quickly through a whimper, “How may I serve you Master?”

“Good, good…” The ginger man crouched down and ran a big hand down Sam’s long back sending cold chills to the boy’s core. “Now, Sam, where do you sleep?”

Sam sniffed hard and swallowed. “This boy sleeps in the barn with the goats. What would have me do, Master?”

“Close, very close…” Greg said ran the crop along the slave’s shoulders and cracked a slap on to the boy’s chest. ‘Mmmmm!” the kid cried, all but biting his tongue, trying not to howl.

“This slave will sleep were his master sees fit. Who is your master, Sam?” the man asked firmly.

Sam closed his eyes. “This slave’s master is you, Master…”

“That is very good!” the handler grabbed the boy’s cock and tugged gently until Sam’s eyes widened in fear and his mouth opened to a perfect “O.”

“Who gives you pleasure, slave?”

“You do, Master!” Sam said loudly. Fighting his urge to moan.

The trainer dropped the cock and slapped Sam hard across the face. Rage brewed behind Sam’s eyes as looked on with disbelief. He shook his head slightly, swallowing some tears and replied, “This boy receives pleasure from his master… How may I serve you, Master?” The boy said softly, casting his eyes to the floor.

“Very good!” Gregory said grabbing hold of the awakened cock and resuming his rhythm. Each tug rubbed against the bulb still held firmly in place and sending jolts of pleasure into his stomach.

“Such a beautiful baby boy! Look at you,” the trainer hissed. Sam pulled his head up, his neck cranked so high, he felt all his muscles strain.

“This boy does receive pleasure from his Master doesn’t he?”

“This boy receives pleasure from his master… How may I serve you, Master?” Sam panted looking up and fight back his gasps. “You are being such a good little boy. But then again… Maybe I am going too easy on you?” Greg gave the hardening cock a squeeze and Sam choked a low whine.

Gregory left go. Sam looked breathlessly at the floor, gasping as he tried to calm himself.

“Let practice a little…” The man pointed four fingers down. Sam shook his head and got down on all fours.

The slave’s muscles ached and burned from stress and tension. He slumped his shoulders as his position looked like a cross between downward dog and doggy style.

“Lift your ass, show me that pretty tail of yours…” the trainer hummed as picked up his crop again, tapping the slave lightly on the bottom.

The boy’s face reddened as he thrust his hips higher, altering the location of the plug. It felt better. He shook with shame as stared into the floor.

“You poor boy…” Greg sang as he brushed the boy’s cock with the crop, it fell heavy as the kid shifted his knees. The light impersonal touches causing his breath to hitch.

Greg cocked a smile and again had four fingers down and spread his digits into a command Sam did not want to follow.

The boy turned his head slightly and spread his legs. He felt if anything stirred in stomach the thing would shoot out. He tried to clinch but his strength was giving out.

“Maybe I should just mount you boy… You just good like this….” the master leered. The boy shook his head and whimpered.

“Your angelic master would not like that much… Me deflowering his little pet… Keep your flower boy… I can take everything else…” the redhead grabbed the slave’s cock again. After a few rough pulls he dropped it and began to pinch at the previously tortured nipples.

Sam just lost it. “RED, whatever. Stop it!” he cried, pulling away, taking out the tail and standing up.  
Gregory looked wide-eyed and amused at the boy’s scene.

Then shook his head, “Not really how the game is played, boy…” Greg approached Sam who had locked his stance and looked head on with wild eyes. He was fucking done.

Greg causally mused that maybe they had gone too far on the first day. The toy was just so fun to play with. Greg swiped a hand at Sam’s nose, catching the ring and giving it a good pull.

Sam whimpered, his head following again the Master’s commands.

Greg grabbed for the long bag and pulled out a ten pound weight.

“Looks like someone has just earned a detention…” Greg clasped the weight to Sam’s nose. Sam’s head fixed the ground as his trainer bound his hands behind his back.  
“I bet you wondered why you weren’t given the pretty little rings Bobby was given. I suspect Gabriel knew you’d be more of a problem. No matter how strong you are, I bet you can’t lift this weight with your nose, boy,” the handler said smiling. Then the man bound the boy’s legs tying them together. He used a length of rope to secure the boy’s legs to his hands, his nose keeping his head close to the ground.  
“We could have had some fun… Well, there is always tomorrow. Looks like you are skipping lunch, Slim. I’ll let Mark and Bobby know. Be a good boy and don’t go anywhere….” Greg chuckled as he closed the door and turned out the lights.


	4. Chapter 4

Clouded in darkness, the room seemed to much smaller than it had been before. Sam twisted his hips helplessly. He looked around at the pale outline of shades his master had drawn. His muscles and body craved rest. But every time the boy started to relax the ropes pulled or his nose was stretched.  
  
He closed his eyes and wondered how in any universe, he had thought being a slave was easier than fighting monsters with Dean.  
  
Finally it was too much. Sam missed the black beast Dean treated like princess. He missed Dean’s musty stench, his pessimism, his cold hands, his ability to take control of every situation and his relentless ability to keep him safe. From what he tell, he was not safe now. Far from it.  
  
It seemed like hours, the slave panted and wept. When Sam thought he could take it no more, he heard the door open. His blood ran cold. Dread mounted and took hold of him. He thought Greg had decided he was not properly punished. He shook his head as much as he could as the door pulled open.  
  
“Oh Jesus! Greg!” Mark shouted running toward Sam.  
  
“What the fuck did you do? Dammit…” Mark said as he took to unclasping the poor kid’s nose and pulling out a knife and cutting the rope. “I would’ve come sooner, Greg just told me you were practicing your… patience… fuck, I should’ve know. Bastard…”  
  
Mark jogged back to the door, heaving the giant bag behind him.  
  
“You poor thing…” Mark watched as the boy shivered and shook from exhaustion. The handler draped a blanket over the boy’s shaking frame. Then he put both his hands on the kid’s shoulders and rubbed vigorously.  
  
“Come on, kid. You’re done for the day… There’s a spare room down the hall. Decent spot of luck, the music teacher called in today. Some sort of business he had… I’ll just have Madame Bridget give Bobby a three hour art lesson. I heard she’s nice enough. Gregory left. He went into town, probably to drink himself stupid again…” Mark explained as he urged the boy onto his feet and set him moving down the hall.

~*~

  
Mark put Sam on the bed as he ducked into the bathroom and drew a bath. Mark watched as the slave shuttered and chattered his teeth, his long arms wrapped tightly around himself. He averted his eyes as he tried to comply.  
  
“Calm down, kid. Look, Greg told me act tough around you guys. He said I needed to establish an air of authority… Well after what you saw today… Let’s give up that little dream, okay? I mean, hell, I’ve gotta be half your size? Maybe he was right to show you two…” Mark said looking off, “You hadn’t seen how slaves are really treated have you?” the handler asked looking back at the boy.  
  
Sam started tear up again. He slowly shook head miserably.  
  
“Come on, let’s get you in the bath…” Mark said quickly, realizing these uncomfortable truths were best kept for another day.  
Sam almost did not let go of the blanket, until he remembered modesty in front of this man was completely unnecessary. He let go after a tug from Mark and carefully eased himself into the tub. Mark had set a bottle of water on the lip of the tub.  
  
“Drink that. You are seriously dehydrated. You’ll feel better after a while,” Mark said softly as he backed out and closed the bathroom door.  
Sam settled slowly into the bath. He winced as the marks on his body hit the warm water. Mark had added some Epson salt to help with healing. Sam had noticed the bag as he took in his new space.   
  
  
From behind the door, Sam smiled as he heard Mark fighting with Mrs. Blacker over the intercom.  
  
“No! I said I am going to need lunch and it needs to be soup!” Mark shouted.  
  
A staticky voice replied, “Last time I checked, you had no higher station than me, so haul your ass to the dining hall and pick up lunch yourself. It’s trout,” she said with finality.  
  
Mark banged his small fist on the wall.  
  
“You listen here! Your master’s favorite slave needs some fucking soup and if he doesn’t get it, I am going to start praying to the bastard… So have someone bring up some damn soup!” the small man growled into the box.  
  
“There is no need for such language! Olivia will be up as soon as she can…” the old woman said back.  
  
“For fuck’s sake! Thank you…” He said pressing the button. “Fucking soup Nazi…that’s what she is…” he muttered to himself. Then he gave the bathroom door a knock, “You okay in there?”  
  
“This slave is okay…” Sam called back, hearing how ridiculous he sounded after he said it. He could hear Mark’s gentle laughter behind the door and smiled. Maybe it was not so bad…

 

~*~  
  
  
Eventually, as the water began to cool, Sam released the drain and wrapped himself in one of the towels. Jez, he was still cold and sore.  
  
Mark opened the door and led him back to the bed. Sam slid into the cool sheet and started to shiver again. The trainer walked around the bed, put down a bowl of soup and got in with him.  
  
“Look, no funny stuff…, I have my reputation to keep in tact,” Mark said with a grin. “Seriously, you just need to back to yourself before the Red Demon returns…”  
Sam nodded and closed his eyes. Mark shoved some pillows behind the kid to get him more upright, then slid in closer. The handler hand fed the kid some soup for about half an hour. Sam was grateful as his arms felt like he couldn’t lift them without shaking.  
  
Sam could barely keep his eyes open as he drifted into sleep. Mark settled in next to him and took a book from the night stand. Heart of Darkness.  
  
A few hours past. Sam shook his head as he found a puddle of drool on his pillow. He looked over at his tiny companion. Conrad. Decent author, Sam thought as he wriggled a little.  
  
“You skip senior English or something?” Sam asked forgetting himself.  
  
Mark gave the kid an odd look and chuckled. “I happen to like Conrad, thank you. And yes. M’ first Master pulled me out of school and shoved me on the block at sixteen. Found me, or rather found the Misses abusing me in parlor. A shock to both of us I assure you. Then I was a jockey. That was a good gig. My master was shit, but the horses… I did like working with them. Much more than you guys… No offense.  
  
“Gregory saw me chewing out my Master for drugging his horse and saw something he liked. Saved me good beating that day. Probably the last beating he saved me from… Well, you’ve cut the slave rhetoric, that’s a good sign. But you look pretty well spent. I am going to tell Greg you need another day off your feet. You’ll be lock in that barn most the day but at least you won’t be cut with the crop for a day….”  
  
Sam closed his eyes again.  
  
“Cheer up. I’ll even lone you a few books. If you don’t mind senior English…” Mark chuckled.  
  
“I liked senior English… I am just…”  
  
“No need to explain. I understand. Just one thing's been bothering me Sam, if you don’t mind me asking…” Mark asked almost timidly.  
  
“Pretty sure you can ask me anything, Chief…” Sam said slightly amused.  
  
“I met Castiel… Briefly. But he doesn’t seem the sort to order someone like Greg to do, you know? What we are doing?”  
  
“I think this is all Gabriel. Castiel looked pretty crazed when he saw me in the new uniform and chowing down in my food bowl,” Sam chuckled lightly remembering the look on his master’s face.  
  
“See then why did I hear Gabriel tell Bobby you were staying in the stall as long he was. ‘No partial graduation’ is how he put it…” Mark asked carefully.  
  
Sam’s right hand flew to his mouth as he fingered his stubble. He closed his eyes hard. That fucker...  
  
“You mean to tell me I am not here to learn shit? That I am here for the amusement of that sadist prick and ‘Graduation’ of that fat fuck?” Sam hissed, his head hit the headboard louder than he intended.  
Mark’s eyes opened wide as he watched the gears turning in Sam’s head. Goddamn it, he really had too big of a mouth for as small as he was.  
  
“All because… Get this! He wouldn’t kiss Gabriel! Holy shit. I was ready to fuck Castiel or let myself get fucked? I have no idea but I was fucking open to it. Bastard! Mutherfucker!” Sam seethed.

“Hold on there, Turbo! Everything I told you I heard from outside a really fucking gigantic door. Let him tell his side. No need to attack your bunkmate, brother…” Mark said quickly, realizing the riff that was brewing.  
  
Sam started breathing through his nose to calm himself down. He did take solace in the fact that Bobby was probably having his ass handed to him with the tutors… He fell back asleep and was awoken at Dinner time.

 

~*~  
  
Mark put Sam and Bobby in their black spandex and led them back to the barn. The little trainer set down their food and water bowls.  
  
“I’m coming back in half hour and then I am going to give Bobby a bath in the new wash and I’ll put you boys down for the night. Greg is out for the count and both of you have been through a lot… Play nice. I will discipline the two of you if you step out of line. It’s the job. So be good…” He warned staring at Sam, who clearly still looked pissed.  
  
“You know what? Fuck it…” Mark said as he approached Sam. He grabbed a leash, hooked the large gold ring and secured tall slave to the wall.  
  
“Come on, boy…” Mark said sadly as he pulled the clearly hungry man away from his dish toward the new wash. The man looked back confused.  
  
"We’ll get the two of you ready for bed… You start eating, Sam!” Mark called back as he guided Bobby into the wash. The workman had finished the thing and it shined. Mark pulled out the straps and like Bobby expected, one strap held up his back end and the other braced his neck and kept his head high, threatening his windpipe.  
  
The slave soon relaxed into Mark nimble fingers and they worked in generous amounts of shampoo and soap. Warm water slouched over him as was close to moaning.  
Mark then toweled him off, giving his muscles a firm rub. Bobby felt amazing as thick blanket with silly hat was attached and he was led back to his dish.  
  
  
Bobby looked down at the dish with a smile. Man this day was not so bad. Madame Bridget was kind and impressed with how much he knew about art and philosophy. Didn’t hurt that she was pretty to boot. No training tonight! The morning was hard but the rhythm was coming. And Ester? She made beef stroganoff. Bless her. Look at that? Little carrot hearts at the bottom of bowl. Head winds were turning tail winds.  
  
Sam did not notice the carrots, he did not appreciate the dinner prepared with care, he barely noticed the care rubdown Mark gave him. All he could see was red and his handler saw it. After Mark had finished brushing Sam’s teeth, he reached over to the tack cart and pulled out mouth piece. He shoved a piece of plastic into Sam’s mouth, it held down his tongue. His hands flew to pry the device off, but were met with a sharp swat.  
  
Mark’s face was serious. “Don’t take it out, Sam. You boys wanna fight? You can fight tomorrow. In front of Greg. Let it go, Sam. You did something to get you here. This is the tax. It’s not going to feel fair ever. It’s not supposed to. Let it go,” Mark whispered into Sam’s ear  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

  
  
Sam realized as Mark left there was no taking the damn contraption out. Even if he wanted to. Damnit. His hands were gloved. He couldn’t communicate even if Bobby did know Sign Language. He shook his head and thought angrily about his sore body as he tried to settle down to sleep. Even the damn goats were louder and more obnoxious tonight.  
  
Bobby hummed as he settled himself in.  
  
“You alright in there? What the hell happened to you after we left? Mark said you pulled a muscle?” the older man asked casually.  
  
Bobby waited for a response. All he heard was mumbling. He pulled himself up and tried to look around the stall into his neighbor’s.  
  
Sam was bitterly and tightly curled up. And turned obviously away from Bobby’s stall. The young man seemed content to seethe in the stench of the barn and his growing hate for the man he had befriended not a few weeks prior.  
  
Bobby took one look at Sam and assumed the worse.  
  
“WHAT the fuck did that bastard do to you? I swear to God I will kill that fucker if he hurt you. What the fuck happened?” Bobby growled.  
  
Sam shot up and put finger to his lips as he stared the man down.  
  
“Alright… alright…” Bobby said more quietly. “Did he rape you boy?” There was a seriousness and concern in the man’s voice Sam had not heard directed toward him before for a long time. Dean had really been the only person to ever go up to bat for him before. It was almost enough to redeem him in Sam’s eyes. Almost…  
  
Sam shook his head and rolled over again, holding himself tighter.  
  
“You don’t want to talk about it kid?” the man asked more concerned.  
  
Sam looked back and opened his mouth. Bobby saw the clear plastic device pressed down on the pink tongue as the kid pulled on the straps that held it in place.  
  
“Jez, they don’t want you talking… Is that thing… permanent?”  
  
Sam shook his head without looking back.  
  
“Well good news is the Art teacher is hot and almost nice? Be careful around her though. She has brought a really nasty looking paddle. Thing creeped me out until she started talking. That should make at least some of the day tolerable…” Bobby said loudly. Knowing the kid couldn’t talk didn’t mean he couldn’t hear but we all jumble things occasionally.  
  
Just made Sam madder. Jez, if that dude had gotten at least one swat with the day Sam had it, might have given him a moment of solace. No luck, though. Sam knew it was shitty, almost evil, to wish harm on the man, but fuck wasn’t he at least partly evil? There should be some benefit to it. Hell, he was probably going to end the world anyway, maybe this was the beginning…  
  
  
~*~

  
Sleep was a welcome escape from the craziness of the day. The night wind blew through the barn. Jeremiah had left the top of the goat's door open to air the place out. The day's were getting unreasonably hot and the barn was getting unreasonably rank. The cool wind and rustle of the forest lulled the residents of the barn to deep slumber.  
  
Jeremiah had gotten very good at directing the beast out to pasture without waking the men who clearly needed more respite than they were given. The open door allowed Bobby and Sam to be awaken to another one of Mark and Gregory's fights.  
   
“‘Want you to get ‘em suited up and jog ‘em for PT. I’m goin’ back to bed,” Greg all but slurred.  
  
“I told you, Greg. Sam’s laid out, today. You pushed him too far yesterday…” Mark said softly.  
  
“Who the fuck are you to tell I pushed him too far?” Greg growled and must have done something to Mark as faint whimper was heard following the growl. “What does it matter anyway? They are Angel pets…” the master said dismissively.  
  
There was some scuffling. Apparently Mark putting himself back together. The little trainer huffed. “Yeah... Angel pets with no damn angel. Who the hell is going to heal him, Greg?”  
  
“Hmm… You got me there,” Greg spit. “Fine. Tell Castiel’s little pet he can stay inside today. But run Bobby. That hog needs to get faster and thinner… That race’ll be here before you know it…” The master trainer said as kicked at the outside of the barn.  
  
“Yeah, yeah….” Mark said walking away. The young man stared deep in to the dirt path before him. Man, slave races were about as brutal a thing as the ring. It had always been Greg’s ass on the line at these things. He never won… and he sure looked like shit afterwards. Mark was never quite sure if it was due to the losing or the after party. This time, the Master was hopefully. Not surprising, Greg picked Sam to be his runner. Long legs, lean, young. But hell, he did not want either of the boys to race. At least today would be easy on the two of them…  
  
“Go on. I’ll take care of the boys today. Get some rest… You look like shit.” Mark said coyly.  
  
“Ha. Ha. Just make sure you lay some marks on that fat one today. Don’t think I didn’t catch the missing marks on that boy’s knees. I told you to play ball with him, Mark…” Greg scolded.  
  
“And if he follows my commands? What? You want me to lay into him for what? Breathin’?” Mark asked, panic beginning to surface in his voice.  
  
“Calm down. Jesus. We’ll do this together. You need to start keeping those boys in line, Mark. It’s your job. After this gig, you’re going to get paid just like me and you are going to have to prove your worth or they’ll fire the both of us. Now come on. Time to introduce the concept of maintenance…” Greg’s grin a little too big for the task he was about complete. The master’s steps became lighter as he walked toward the barn with new energy. Mark tried to quiet his hands that began to quiver at his sides. He liked these boys but his new found friendship was just about to end very badly.  
   
Bobby’s heart began to race in his chest. His mind kept pace, flooding with all the terrible things that were about to happen as the trainer’s footsteps made their way to the barn. And really? What the fuck were they talking about, races?  
  
Sam drew his tired legs close to his body again and rocked himself gently. Neither of them liked the idea of marks being laid anywhere…  
   
Greg slid the door to the barn open with a disturbing BANG.  
  
The handler’s lips curled into a smile as his eyes narrowed with approval. The redhead could see the fear building in the boys’ eyes. He huffed a chuckle as looked them over. Shit he hadn’t done anything yet and boys were thoroughly chilled to the bone.  
  
“I heard you boys got a little reprieve yesterday. It’s ending today. Looks like Tubby over here needs a few reminders… I’ll demonstrate on Slim over there, just so no one feels left out…” Greg strut over to Sam’s stall and pulled him out. The kid’s legs started shake with fear, exhaustion or both as the handler started to fiddle with the nightcap.  
  
“Take Bobby out and strip him. I’ll teach you a few things with this one and then I’ll test you, Mark…” Greg smiled, talked through the slave in his care.  
  
Bobby shivered as his eyed the man. He looked like someone was about to give him a blow job with the grin he had locked on his face.  
  
Mark nodded and as he looked Bobby over with sad eyes. His boot scrapping his shins as he felt his whole body begin to itch. He pulled the man out of his stall and used his nimble fingers to remove the clothing quickly, avoiding the slave’s anxious eyes.  
  
Greg rolled the tack cart between the stalls and arranged Sam to face Bobby and Mark.  
  
“Looks like someone needed to keep their trap shut, maybe you are due too,” Greg said rubbing the Sam’s bottom and giving it some light slaps.  
   
“Maintenance.” Greg began, looking at the two boys, “Is a term your masters will use for I’m a sadist bastard and I just want to lay into you a little from time to time. Remind you whose boss and whose not,” Greg said with a click of his tongue, pointing to Bobby and Sam.  
  
The redhead pulled out a long thin wooden paddle. He slapped the thing on his hand as all eyes fixed their gaze on the thing.  
  
“Now, because this is not a proper punishment, normal rules do not apply. We want to get this over with and not do too much damage, but there should be a lasting sting…” The man smiled showing his teeth.  
  
Greg grabbed Sam by the top of his arm.  
  
“Interesting fact. Grabbing anyone by this area of the body will invoke a panic response. It never made much sense to me, seeing mothers grab their children by the top of the arm. It causes even the most temperate child to pull and try to escape the grasp…”  
  
“For our purposes, this position allows me to look at what I am doing as well as its effect, while keeping Sam here in place. It is a declaration of authority… Let’s see how Sam responses…”  
Sam’s panic had set in well before anyone grabbed his arm but the effect was apparent. The slave’s panicked doe eyes were already showing signs of tears.  
Greg stood behind the tall slave and rubbed the flat of the paddle on the slave’s bottom.  
  
“From this angle, I can see what I am doing,” Greg said as he yanked the boy forward for a better look at his ass. “As well as the effect I am having,” the handler said as he pulled the boy back and smiling at his face. “It’s not as personal as putting the boy over my lap put let’s add some variety, shall we?”  
  
“Now, Mark. Come over here,” Greg pointed to a spot on the ground. “There are, I would say three areas to strike. I have watched you work. You take whatever you have in your hand, and strike as quickly as you can. There is some merit in that but watch. If I strike here,” Greg patted Sam’s bottom straight on. “We can hit the plump of his rump so to say…” The trainer landed three swats. The boy whimpered, looking around the barn frantically. He was just going to have to take it. His ass burned as lifted his legs, one then the other.  
  
“That is where you should swat the most,” the boy choked on a sob. Greg rolled his eyes and continued. “Now. This area right here…” the handler pat the underside of reddening bottom with his paddle.   
  
Greg smiled. “This is arguably the region that make a spanking erotic. You are pushing up and hitting that sweet spot, giving him some confusing bumps of pleasure with his pain. Spank here and he’ll probably start to pant. You want to almost lift the boy up…” the redheaded man said as he swung down and up, reignited the boy’s panic. The next four blows, caused his breath to change. He swung his head and looked down in shame, shifting his feet again and watching bulbous tears hit the cold concrete collecting in a puddle.  
  
“Now this area, just hurts. Give a few swats redden his thighs. This is when you can get some tears going…” The paddle caught the boy’s upper thighs hard, he gasped and shrieked.  
  
Greg looked into the boy, whose eyes were wet and face was red. The trainer gave a satisfied smile as he set the paddle back down on the cart. He ran his calloused fingers over the slave’s lean body. Over the sleek lines, inching their way down. The boy shook his head as the man grabbed the boy’s cock, circling his fingers around the base until the boy was firm.  
  
The handler began to stroke the boy whose tears only quickened. “You do look so beautiful when you cry…,” he whispered quietly into the slave’s ear.  
  
Mark looked on with growing disgust. “You wanna get a room or something, boss?”  
  
Greg huffed a laugh, his face slightly flush. He opened his hand, dropping the boy’s cock like it was a stolen object. Greg then roughly applied the slave’s night suit back to his body. With an unnecessary shove, Sam was locked back in his stall, wide-eyed and terrified.  
  
The redheaded trainer turned on his heels, leaving the barn without looking back.  
  
Mark spit on the ground. That’s just, Gregory… he thought as he narrowed his eyes watching the man walk himself back to the house. A right and proper example of a right and proper sadist.  
  
Mark tore through the supplies and pulled out Bobby’s black spandex. He smiled slightly, as he outfitted the slave, seeing the fabric showing the man’s progress.  
  
Bobby brushed a few tears away as he looked hard at the barn door, wondering how much more Sam could actually take of this. If this was what slave life actually entailed it was no surprise that Greg wanted to break them. It took all Bobby had not to beat the fucker to bloody pulp. The guilt of not doing anything pulled at just as hard.  
  
Sam held himself close as he pushed back to the far end of the cell, nesting the heap of blankets. Mark looked in at Sam with a sad sigh. He hoped that angel’s grace could heal the wounds to souls as it could the wounds of the body.


End file.
